


Goodnight Kisses

by TheWincestRiots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWincestRiots/pseuds/TheWincestRiots





	Goodnight Kisses

Dean is 12 when he stops giving Sam a goodnight kiss. He figures they’re both a little too old for that stuff. He still tucks him in, but when Sam looks up at him expectantly, waiting for that kiss on the forehead that he’s gotten every night of his little eight year old life, Dean just pats his shoulder and says “Go to sleep, Sammy”.

  
Sam lets it go for nearly a week. But he doesn’t like it, and he finds it hard to get to sleep. He wonders if maybe he did something wrong, or if Dean just thinks he’s too cool to be giving his dorky little brother a goodnight kiss.

They’re staying in a little 2 room efficiency, a bedroom with two double beds and a tiny living room/kitchen. Even though Dad’s been gone for a few days now Dean still makes sure Sam goes to bed at a decent time. He tucks Sam in and he’s about to head out to the other room to watch some tv, but Sam puts both his little hands on either side of Dean’s face and pulls his head down, kissing him. For a long moment Dean doesn’t move, and they stay there like that, with Sam’s lips pressed to Dean’s forehead.

Finally Dean pulls away, clearing his throat. “Um…Sammy, what was that about?"

Sam gives a little shrug. "You never kiss me goodnight anymore, De. Are you mad at me?”

Dean takes in his brother’s wide innocent eyes, and crap, he can see tears beginning to form.

“Sammy, jeez, no. I’m not mad. I just thought maybe you were getting a little old for goodnight kisses from your brother. I know you hate it when I treat you like a baby.” Dean gives him a reassuring smile.

And now that Sam thinks about it maybe it is a little babyish. It’s a disappointing revelation. “Oh. Yeah, I guess. ”

Dean shifts on the bed. “ Maybe I could still do it, like once in a while, though.”

Sam tries not to seem too enthusiastic as he nods. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I could give you one every now and then, too, and it would be more, um, equal?”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, okay dorkface.”

Sam punches Dean’s arm at that. “Whatever jerkwad.” But he’s flashing one of his blinding smiles, dimples popping out.

Dean reaches down and pushes Sam’s bangs of his forehead, then leans down and kisses him. “G'night Sammy.”

  
“Night Dean."

*

Dean is 15 when he decides the goodnight kisses really have to stop. He’d thought maybe when Sam had stopped wanting to get tucked in that would be the end of it, but Sam kept it up and Dean had been happy to go along with it. Just a quick press of lips to the forehead or cheek. Still, he should have stopped it a long time ago, but it was…nice. And that’s the problem, he thinks. It’s a little _too_ nice. He’s been feeling kind of weird about it for a while now.

He doesn’t say anything to Sam about it. Figures there’s no reason Sam should feel weird just because he does, especially when the kid’s so hung up on being normal. Dean thinks if he just stops kissing him goodnight, eventually Sammy’ll stop too.

They’re squatting in an abandoned farmhouse. It’s got two bedrooms, but no actual beds. They’re running electricity off an old diesel generator John picked up somewhere, but diesel costs money so it’s lights out at 8:00 for the boys. Dean’s got a battery powered boombox set up between their sleeping bags and it’s playing Zeppelin low and quiet. Sam lies on his side on top of his sleeping bag, looking over at his brother in the faint blue light of the stereo’s display. Dean’s propped against the wall, eyes closed, mouth moving silently along with the lyrics.

Sam could watch him like this for hours. He’s always studied his brother, tried to be like him, to maybe be even half as cool as Dean is. Lately, though, he’s found himself watching him just to watch. Sometimes he thinks maybe that’s a little weird, but he’s noticed other people watching Dean, too. It makes him uncomfortable in a way he’s not quite sure he understands, but it also makes him feel a little less weird. Dean doesn’t seem to mind anyway, at least not when it’s Sam.

Dean must feel Sam watching because he opens his eyes and looks right at him. “Hey, Sammy.” he says, smiling. “What’s up?”

Sam gives a little half shrug.

“You gettin’ tired? Want me to turn off the music?” Dean asks, scooting down into his sleeping bag.

“Nah. It’s cool.”

What Sam really wants is a goodnight kiss. It’s been a while, and Sam gets it, he does. He knows it’s not normal for brothers their age to be trading kisses, and Dean’s way too cool for that anyway, but he misses it. He lets out an involuntary sigh as he slides his legs into his own sleeping bag, hoping it won’t be heard over the low music and rustling of his covers.

Dean has sharp ears though. “Hey, somethin’ wrong?” He murmurs, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. He leans up on his elbow to look at his brother. With a smirk he asks “Girl trouble?”

Sam rolls his eyes so hard his head rolls a little too. “Oh my god, Dean. No.” He turns away from his brother,curling up towards the wall.

The smirk instantly falls from Dean’s face. He was going for funny but he clearly missed the mark, and now he’s worried that there really is something wrong. “Hey, hey,man, c'mon. You know you can talk to me, right?”

He reaches across the small space between their makeshift beds and lays what’s meant to be a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder, surprised to meet bare skin where the sleeve of Sam’s too big t-shirt has ridden up. The contact causes a wave of very non-fraternal warmth to coil through Dean’s body. Shit. He closes his eyes and tells himself it’s just hormones, just stupid teenage boy hormones. Sammy’s his little brother, for christ’s sake.

Sam turns back to him and Dean gratefully takes his hand away, ignoring the way his relief at the loss of contact feels a little bit like disappointment. Just hormones.

“M'fine, Dean. Just…” Sam hesitates, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “Maybe I still need a goodnight kiss. Maybe. Sometimes.” It’s mumbled low and fast, and if Dean hadn’t been giving Sam his full attention he probably wouldn’t have been able to make out all the words.

Sam’s blushing enough that it’s easy to see even in the dim light. He starts to turn back to the wall, but Dean reaches out and catches his arm. “Sam.”

The words come out of him in a rush “Sorry, I know it’s stupid. I-”

“No,it’s okay.” Dean interrupts. He takes a deep breath and tries to get his pulse under control. He crosses the two feet between them, kneeling on the cold hardwood floor. “It’s okay Sam." _No, it really isn't,_ he thinks as his heart skitters in his chest. _Just stupid hormones,_ he repeats to himself as he leans down over his baby brother, pressing his lips to Sam’s temple. He holds the kiss for a beat longer than is really reasonable, but the smile Sam flashes when he pulls away is more than worth any of his own discomfort. Suddenly Sam’s hand is on the back of his neck, pulling Dean back down. he places a quick kiss on Dean’s cheek, a little too close to his mouth for comfort.

"Thanks, Dean.” He whispers happily as he snuggles deeper into his sleeping bag.

Dean gets back under his own covers and finds he has to adjust his boxers.

_Shit._

*

Dean is 19 the first time his little brother kisses him on the mouth. It’s an accident, he thinks. He’d stopped trying to break Sam of the habit of goodnight kisses years ago, though these days the kiss is usually accompanied by a shove or a punch to the arm, something Dean had started in an attempt to quell the thrumming under his skin at the feel of his little brother’s lips.

They’re in a motel. It’s nicer than the places they usually stay, mainly because it’s the only one in town and it’s too cold for camping. Dad’s out ‘gathering intel’, which at this time of night means he’s at the bar. The boys have the heat cranked up to the point where it’s almost uncomfortably warm, but it feels good after a day spent tromping through the snow in the local graveyards. They’re watching tv on one of the beds, leaving the other vacant for John. Despite the explosions on the screen, Dean is finding it really hard to keep his eyes open. He doesn’t notice drifting off, but suddenly Sam’s shaking his shoulder.

“Dude, if you sleep like that you’re gonna hurt your neck. Lie down.”

“Mmphm.” Dean can’t be bothered to wake up all the way, and he really doesn’t want to move, but Sam pushes him again and he sleepily complies.

Sam turns off the tv and pulls the covers up over both of them, taking in the sight of his sleepy brother. There’s an incredible sweetness to Dean when he’s like this. Sam takes in the sweep of his lashes against the curve of his faintly flushed cheek, his perfect lips just barely parted. He catches himself reaching out to touch that mouth.

_No.Stupid hormones,_ he tells himself. He wills his arm to move past his brother, reaching over him to turn off the light.

“G'night, Dean.” Sam whispers, leaning down to place a quick kiss on his cheek, but Dean shifts slightly, and the kiss intended for his cheek ends up landing on his lips instead.

Sam is too stunned to move and for just a moment Dean, in his sleep addled state, deepens it from a mere brush of lips into a real kiss. Sam makes a small involuntary noise and Dean’s eyes snap open.

He’s awake instantly, pulling away from Sam so fast it’s like he’s been burned. He feels like he has been burned, or maybe struck by lightning, electrical pulses skimming just under the surface of his skin. “Sammy?”

“Dean, I- I didn’t mean to- I just-” Sam’s moving away from him as he stammers, scrambling to get out from under the covers and off the bed. Dean grabs his arm before he can quite make it.

“Hey, hey Sammy. Hey, no, it’s okay.” He soothes, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin on the inside of Sam’s arm. In the light from the window he can see Sam’s eyes, wide and shining, looking a bit like a scared puppy. He doesn’t give himself too much time to think about it before he’s tugging on Sam’s arm, pulling him back down, and Sam comes willingly. Dean brings his other hand to the back of Sam’s neck, tangling his fingers in his hair. But as much as he wants this, _really, really oh god so much_ wants this, his brain won’t leave him alone. It’s Sammy, his baby brother, what if Sam doesn’t want this?

Dean stills, but Sam doesn’t, keeps leaning down until his body is flush up against Dean’s, their mouths bare centimeters apart, and jesus, it feels so damn good. Just as their lips touch Dean tightens his grip on Sam’s neck, pulling him back. This is Sammy, and he has to be sure. “This okay, Sammy?”

“Yeah.” Sam answers breathlessly, and Dean doesn’t think he could hold him back if he wanted to now. It’s artless and unpracticed, the way Sam’s licking into mouth with no preamble. Dean takes control of the kiss, slowing it down, grazing Sam’s bottom lip with his teeth. It’s perfect, he thinks.

They’re both so caught up in the kiss that they almost miss the rumble of the engine as the Impala pulls up outside the room. They break apart reluctantly, each rolling in the opposite direction as they listen to the car door close and the metallic grinding of the key in the lock. John heads straight to the bathroom, sparing only a moment’s glance at his supposedly sleeping boys.

When the door to the bathroom shuts, Sam shifts close enough that Dean can feel his breath on his neck as he whispers “G'night, Dean.”

Dean turns, chancing one more quick kiss before whispering “'Night, Sammy.”


End file.
